“Thank you for walking with me,” Helen called to Samuel over her shoulder.
“My pleasure,” he said, for the benefit of any servants who might be watching — and also because it was true. The story of Helen’s red dress had touched him. He wouldn’t have guessed that a simple question about one’s favorite color would reveal so much about a person. He suspected, however, that Christopher knew otherwise.
“No small victory,” Samuel murmured as he reflected on their walk and watched Helen ascend the stairs. She’d spoken more the past twenty minutes than during all of their previous conversations. Perhaps, as she’d declared, she really wasn’t as shy as he’d believed.
“Let’s play Going to a Ball.” Beth gathered her dolls from the various rooms of the dollhouse. She held up the two girls, clothed in the finery Helen had sewn for them. “I’ll be these.” She thrust the boy doll at Helen. “And you be him.”
“Very well.” Helen leaned forward to accept the assigned doll. “But I really don’t know much about balls. I haven’t been to very many.” She sat the doll in front of her on the rug.
“You went to the Christmas Eve ball with Papa,” Beth said.
Not with him, though that would have been lovely. “And like your father, I did not stay long.”
“Did you dance?” Beth lay on her stomach, chin propped on her hands.
“I did not,” Helen said.
“Not even with Papa?”
“Not even with him,” Helen said, wistfully. “I wanted to,” she admitted, remembering the awful moment when Samuel had asked Grace to dance instead of her. “But I didn’t.”
“Why not?” Beth asked.
“Well …” Helen considered how to best explain. Beth was the sort of child who proceeded to go after whatever she wanted. Helen smiled as she imagined Beth all grown up and marching across a ballroom to request a dance from the gentleman she favored. Perhaps by then, if there were enough grown-up girls with Beth’s temperament, such a thing would be in vogue. “When a lady attends a ball, she must wait for a gentleman to ask her to dance. If he does not, then she does not get to dance with him.”
“That isn’t fair.” Beth stood one of the girl dolls on the carpet in front of her. “This lady is going to ask the gentleman with the brown hair to dance with her.” She pushed the doll toward Helen’s. “I would like you to dance with me, sir.”
Helen stifled a laugh as she stood the requested “gentleman” on the floor beside Beth’s “lady.”
“I would be honored,” Helen said. She bent the doll forward in a bow. “Now the lady must curtsy,” she whispered.
“Why?” Beth asked.
“Because it is proper and polite.” Samuel’s voice above them startled Helen.
She tilted her head back to look up at him. Never once, during all of her weeks of playing with Beth, had he appeared in the nursery. She had never considered that he might, hadn’t ever worried that anyone besides Beth would be privy to their conversation or observe their play. Helen felt foolish sitting on the floor, making dolls converse. And how much of their conversation had he heard?
“Miss Helen and I will show you how a gentleman and lady greet each other before dancing.” Samuel held his hand out to her, and nervously, Helen accepted. He pulled her up, and they stood — far too close — facing each other.
“How long have you been here watching us?” she asked, not daring to meet his gaze.
“Long enough to realize that I should have asked you to dance at Nicholas’s ball.”
Heat flooded her cheeks.
“I did not think you cared for dancing,” Samuel said.
I would care with you as my partner. But of course she could not say that, so she said nothing and simply looked past him, toward the nursery door.
“Come, let’s show Beth how to dance properly,” he coaxed. Still holding her hand, he tugged her from the rug to the wood floor and the large, open space before the window seat. “It appears my daughter is greatly lacking in social skills. I am beginning to fear I have done her wrong in allowing such free reign. It is good you are here to show her what is proper.”
“Beth has plenty of time to learn to be proper.” Helen raised her eyes to his and found that they twinkled with merriment. “Right now you wouldn’t wish her to be any other way.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t. Even so, at some point, she must learn what is expected of her.” He sent a pointed look in Beth’s direction, though she likely did not notice, bent over and attempting to stand on her head as she was.
Samuel gave a weary sigh. “The older she grows, the more I lose hope that she will ever conform to those expectations. She has too much of her mother in her.” His smile left no doubt as to the direction of his thoughts, and Helen felt a moment of longing. If only the thought of me might make him smile like that. But he was attracted to women like Elizabeth and Grace, who were vivacious and full of life. Not to shy ones who struggled to put two sentences together when in his presence.
“Watch closely, Beth,” Samuel instructed. He released Helen’s hand and walked a few paces away, then returned and stood to face her again. “Miss Helen, would you do me the honor of being my partner for this next dance?”
After a slight hesitation, she played along, telling herself it would be no different from making the dolls talk to one another. “I would be delighted, Mr. Preston.” She held the sides of her skirt and dipped into a curtsy as he sketched a bow. He held his arm out, and she placed her hand upon it. They promenaded around the room — and a giggling Beth — before returning to the same spot.
He stopped and turned to face Helen. “Ready?”
“For what?” she asked warily.
“The dance I owe you. I think a waltz will do. If my titled neighbor can get away with such a thing, I ought to be able to as well.”
Helen shook her head and took a step backward. “Grace said I mustn’t dance the waltz.”
Mr. Preston stepped forward, so that they were close again. “Do you always do what your sister tells you to?” he asked with a rather wicked glint in his eye. “After all, it was she who set the example and waltzed first.” He captured Helen’s hand before she could move again and placed his other at her waist.
“We have no music,” she protested, feeling a little shocked and breathless already at being so near Samuel and feeling his hand at her waist. “I don’t know the waltz.”
“We shall count it out, and I’ll teach you,” he said. “Beth, pay attention. I have no doubt that by the time you’re of age, this dance will be acceptable everywhere.”
“You would wish your daughter to dance this closely to a man?” Helen asked.
He appeared to consider a moment. “The right man, yes. But the wrong one —” His expression darkened. “I think it is a good thing that many years yet separate Beth from courtship.” He looked steadily at Helen. “Place your hand on my shoulder.”
She did, hoping he would not notice her fingers trembling.
“This dance is counted in threes. Follow my lead. We will move in a circle about the room. Ready?”
Feeling anything but ready, she nodded.
“Count with me, Beth,” Samuel called. “One —” He stepped forward, and Helen moved back. “— two, three.” He guided her sideways next, forming a square.
“One, two, three,” Beth shouted far too quickly for them to follow. Helen glanced behind her and saw Beth bouncing up and down on her toes. “One-two-three.”
“That’s it,” Samuel said, guiding Helen to one step for each of Beth’s three shouted beats. “You’re a natural.”
“Grandfather saw that we all had dancing lessons,” Helen confessed, “though he never allowed us to learn the waltz.”
“It is not so different — or as scandalous as all that.” Samuel led her so that their circle widened. They glided past Beth, who clapped happily and continued her counting — still far too fast.
But Helen hardly noticed. Somehow she heard the music
in her head. As they began their third circle around the room, her hand relaxed on Samuel’s shoulder, and she smiled.
We are dancing. It did not matter that they were not at a ball. It was better this way, just the two of them, the only onlooker a precocious three-year-old.
“Aha!” Samuel said, startling her so that she nearly missed a step. “I saw that smile. You are enjoying yourself.”
Helen did not try to deny it. “Because you are an excellent partner,” she said. “Much as I suspected you would be.”
“You did?” His brows arched as if he did not believe her. “I had no idea you’d thought on the matter at all, or I most certainly would have asked you to dance at Nicholas’s ball.”
“It is probably better that you did not,” Helen said. “I would likely have been flustered in front of all those people.”
“No reason for you to have been,” Samuel said. “You have everything they have — and more. You are a beautiful, sweet young lady. Any man would be fortunate to have you as his dance partner — or more.”
Any man but you? Oh, Samuel.
He led them nearer the window, where the sunlight poured in from outside. “Christopher is of the opinion that we ought to spend a week in London.”
“Why?” Helen asked, unable to suppress a shudder. She would be perfectly happy never to visit the city again.
“If we are seen together in public at a few select events — the right events — rumors will be likely to reach Nicholas, which will validate our claim to a relationship.”
“Why must it be London?” Helen asked, as the familiar fear gripped her. “Can we not find a country dance or some other outing to attend here?”
“Nothing of the sort would carry the weight of our presence in London,” Samuel said gently. “The Sutherlands are well connected there. I have heard that Lady Sutherland has returned to the city already. Apparently she and Nicholas quarreled after Grace left. For one who seemed so set against the match, Lady Sutherland has become quite enamored of your sister.”
“If Grace gained her affection, it was hard won,” Helen said, recalling Grace’s many angst-filled letters where she was certain that all in the Sutherland household detested her.
“Nevertheless, she has it. And if Lady Sutherland is to discover — or perhaps even witness herself — that my interests lie elsewhere, she is likely to take that news directly to her son.” Samuel guided them to a stop near the window seat. He released Helen’s waist but kept her hand as they sat. “What is it about London that you dread so much?”
“The people,” Helen said. “There are so many. And I don’t fit in there, in anywhere. Not with the lower classes or with the ton. I never will. And I don’t want to.”
“Then we are a good pair,” Samuel said. “I will never meet the ton’s expectations, but that has not stopped me from enjoying a good musicale or taking a stroll around the park.”
Helen bit her lip in indecision. “Must we attend any balls?”
“I don’t know,” Samuel said. “But as we haven’t any invitations currently, I think it is quite possible we will not. Wouldn’t you like to visit the theatre?” He leaned closer and appeared so earnest in his concern that, for a moment, Helen allowed herself to imagine he really did care for her.
“I would like that.” How many times Grace had returned from the theatre and regaled Helen with the stories and songs she’d seen and heard. Always they had tried to coax Helen into attending, but no matter how she wished it, her fear of going out in public had always made her physically ill right before it was time to leave. She didn’t dare hope that her nerves would be any better now.
“It’s settled then,” Samuel said, pulling her to her feet once more. “We shall leave tomorrow.”
Helen gasped. “Tomorrow?”
“Time is of the essence. Grace seems determined to leave Yorkshire, and once she does, it will be all the more difficult to reunite her and Nicholas. We must establish our relationship —quickly.”
Tomorrow. Helen brought her free hand to her chest, covering her rapidly beating heart. It was one thing to pretend a relationship with Samuel here, but could she go out in public and do the same?
“I want a turn.” Beth ran toward them and slipped her hand into Helen’s free one. “I want to dance.”
“And so you shall,” Samuel said. “We will invent a new waltz — for three.” He took Beth’s other hand, then stood and pulled Helen to her feet. The three began turning a circle. “One, two, three. One, two, three.”
Beth leaned her head back and giggled. Helen felt a rush of affection for the little girl and her father.
The world was changing. Grace would marry Lord Sutherland. Somehow the two would get together, and all would work out. Then, before long, Christopher would strike out on his own. He longed to be gone already. Helen had noted his restlessness for some time. Once he left, she would be alone — their perfect trio changed and separated, never to be put back quite the same way. And as much as Helen feared being near people, the idea of being all alone frightened her even more.
But here I could be happy.
“Faster,” Beth demanded, and Samuel counted even quicker, the numbers blurring into one another, as did the pattern on the walls as they ran in a circle.
Beth laughed, and Helen did too. Her head spun, and her stomach felt fluttery — not just from their spinning. At last Beth collapsed, and Helen and Samuel rushed forward to catch her. They did, holding Beth safely between them in the cradle of their joined hands.
Helen looked up and found Samuel close — closer even than he had been during their dance lesson. They locked eyes for a moment above Beth’s tousled head.
“Thank you,” he said. “For making her so happy.”
“You’re welcome.” If only I could make you happy too.
“I am going to be ill,” Helen said for at least the fifth time since their carriage ride had commenced.
Samuel did not respond. He’d already shown sympathy, offering every remedy he could think of, including stopping the carriage so she might get out for a bit. Christopher had a different approach for dealing with his sister’s nerves, and while Samuel didn’t necessarily agree with it, he couldn’t argue with it either. Christopher’s methods had gotten them this far.
“Please,” Helen begged. “Let us turn back.”
“If you must be ill, do so before we arrive, and be sure to lean over his shoes.” Christopher jerked his head Samuel’s direction. “As your affianced, he is sure to have more patience for it than your brother.”
“When did you become so dreadful?” Helen asked, turning from them both to stare out the window.
Samuel felt torn between offering comfort and laughing out loud. It was apparent that she was not acting; her fear was a nearly palpable thing. Her fingers curled around the seat, clenching and unclenching. Tears hovered in her eyes, and in the dim light, he could see that she’d grown very pale.
Christopher, in spite of his callous words, did not appear to be doing so well himself. Whenever Helen was not looking, he studied her carefully, as if to judge how near the edge his sister really was. Cruelty toward her — toward anyone, likely — was not in his nature. Samuel could see that it was straining him.
The carriage began slowing. Samuel pushed the curtain aside and glanced out the window. He felt a thrill of excitement at seeing the familiar street and buildings. He preferred the country over London in most everything, but he could not deny his love of the theatre. The evening promised to be especially exciting. Sir Walter Scott’s work was always outstanding, but even more than that, Samuel felt privileged to be escorting Helen for her first time. He found himself almost more eager to see her reactions to the play than for the play itself.
But first they had to get her inside.
He turned to her and spoke quietly. “We are almost there.”
“I cannot do it.” She gave him a look of such abject misery that he was at once in agreement. Her face had gone from pa
le to ghostly, and she was shaking.
“You must,” Christopher said. “Quit thinking of yourself, and think about Grace as we left her yesterday — still so sad that she would not accompany us. Do you want her to be happy? Then you must go through with this. Lady Sutherland will be in attendance tonight, and her box is not far from Samuel’s. If she sees you together” — he looked from Helen to Samuel — “she will tell Nicholas. He will begin to question whether or not, and indeed to strongly suspect — if your acting is good enough tonight — that there is nothing between Samuel and Grace.”
Surprisingly, his speech had the desired effect. Helen straightened her back, removed her clenched hands from the seat, and took several deep breaths. “For Grace. Think only of Grace,” she muttered as the carriage rolled to a stop.
The door opened, and Christopher exited first. Samuel moved aside and held his hand out to Helen to help her down. She took it briefly, then descended the steps. He followed her into the brisk night air. The carriage had not been particularly warm, but the cold outside was still a shock, one he hoped might do her some good and restore a bit of color before they entered the building.
He offered his arm, which she took, smiling up at him as she did. He looked down at her as they passed beneath a streetlamp — and felt his breath catch for reasons entirely unrelated to the cold. Helen gazed back with a look of adoration and love such as he hadn’t seen or felt from a woman since Elizabeth. It startled him and set his heart to racing so that he was the one feeling off kilter as they passed through the doors.
Thinking of Grace had certainly motivated Helen to action. Samuel doubted he’d see a better performance on the stage tonight than the one she’d just given. He had best mind his reactions. Remember, she is only pretending. For a moment he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like if she were not. If she truly did care for me …
Once inside the Adelphi Theatre, Helen’s attention wandered elsewhere. He noted the pressure on his arm increasing, but otherwise, she showed no signs of distress. Instead she appeared to be taking everything in, her gaze frequently lifting to the walls and their large paintings or the ornate woodwork and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He guessed she was both admiring the artwork and craftsmanship as well as using them to avert her attention from the throng of people milling about.
Loving Helen (A Hearthfire Romance Book 2) Page 13